Behind Closed Doors
by jadex.xoxo
Summary: Blake and Andie have some guardian angels working hard behind the scenes. Blake/Andie.  Cameos from Nora and Tyler


**A/N: **So, it's been a while. A LONG, LONG while...and quite frankly, I'm frustrated with the state of the Blandie pairing support group! C'mon! We all know those two are meant for each other! :) Anyway, I _don't _know whether I'm going to finish Opportunity or not. That's up in the air. Maybe I'll merge it with this story, heck, I haven't really decided on anything by the way of that. On the other hand, though, here is this! It's a bit short, granted, it looked longer in my notebook. But again, it was also much harder to read in my notebook xD. Ahh, it WILL be Blandie later on, I can't guarantee regular updates, and alllll spelling mistakes are mine-I did the best I could, but if you do notice anything, leaving me a review and telling would be muchly appreciated. Mmmm. Actually, any and all reviews are appreciated, especially ones with constructive criticism...

Disclaimer: God, I WISH. -sigh-

ONWARD AND FORWARD, READERS! :)

* * *

"The forms were due ages ago. Even you know that, Tyler."

Arms steepled in front of him, Blake Collins appraised the man sitting across the desk from him. Tyler swept a hand over his face, then rubbed his crew cut in frustration.

"Man, Blake, you think I don't know that? It's, I just, this girl man!"

Never one particularily good with words, Tyler seemed angrier at himself than usual for his current lack of candor. Huffing out a short breath he flopped back into his chair and toed the edge of the wood desk, courtesy of his long legs folded up in the space between the two pieces of furniture. Breathing out again, slower this time, he slowly lifted his eyes to meet the guardedly interested ones of his friend. Absurdly, Tyler felt almost transported back to a different time, a different office, a different office-but the same request.

"Tyler." The smooth, british flavored voice cut through the tall man's fidgeting. "I know you were accepted into MSA under less than typical circumstances, but that does not mean every common street dancer within a five mile radius of your former home should fall under the same exception and lawlessness!"

"My _circumstances_?" Tyler's eyes narrowed hit a deadly low pitch. "Blake, you know that's not what I'm talking about or asking for!"

"Then what _are_ you asking-"

"Boys."

A third voice cut off Blake's increasingly heated argument. Both pairs of eyes swung to the third person occupying the office. Having quietly stood back and let the boys duke it out earlier, Nora now walked forward and leaned down, placing one hand on the mahogany desk, the other calmingly on Tyler's shoulder. She addressed herself to Blake first.

"Blake."

"Nora." Not losing any ground, though again cautious interest flitted through brown eyes.

"We've known each other a long time-how many dancers have you known me to back, fully and without reservation?"

Brown eyes skittered over Tyler's frame then returned to their previous stare down. "Not many." was allowed.

"And assuming you respect Tyler and I, both as dancers and as people, let me tell you she's good, and she's got the potential to become phenomenal. Isn't that what this school is for? Growth? Tyler believes she can get the guidance she needs through this school, and she's worthy, if not of admission then at least of an audition. You won't be let down in ability and desire if by technicality, Blake. Let her have her chance."

Taking in the speech, the elder Collins leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face which soon morphed into smoldering eyes and a quiet "Don't lecture me on the responsibilities of this school, Nora. I know what they are." Nora held his eye. Dismissively, he added "You know where to find the applications, Nora." At this, Tyler butted in again: "What's the catch?" Nora poked him in the side and shot a glare at him. Blake twirled around again in his chair and gave Tyler an appreciative smile.

Tell me about her."

* * *

Walking out of the familiar red brick building Nora and Tyler headed toward their car. Tyler was the first to break the comfortable silence. "God, for as long as I've known Blake, I can't believe that he can still make me crazy just sitting next to him."

Nora turned to him with a grin and soothed: "He has that effect on everyone, Ty. But hey, at least he'll accept Andie into MSA."

"You mean accept her audition."

"No, no _literally_ take her into MSA."

"After that performance back there? How do you know?"

"He wants to." was the simple hugged his amazing, gorgeous girlfriend before they got into the car and gave her an indulgent smile. He gave a low hum, said "Hope you're right." and laid his head on top of hers but lifted it quickly up again, face brightening.

"Oh, Andie's going to _love_ Blake!" Nora let out an agreeing laugh with a smile to match Tyler's.

_(He was, in that moment, infinitely righter than he'd ever wanted to be.)_

_

* * *

_

Contemplatively, Blake leaned his head back against the headrest of his chair, stared at the ceiling for a few moments, then promptly closed his eyes. Tyler had won their verbal match earlier in the last round, answering Blake's ultimatum for the application with an "Everything you need to know about her is in her dancing." before letting his girlfriend take over make lunch plans for next week, as well as filch an application for Tyler's "troubled dancer".

Just the thought gave Blake the heebie jeebies-his current idea of ornery and troubled was Chase, for godssake, and speaking of which, where was the brat? Blake was fairly sure that he needed a ride, since Chase's car was in the shop for some kind of repairs.

Or something. Blake didn't really do cars.

Reopening his mind and his eyes to the real world, Blake checked the clock in his office only to find another half hour of the school day left. It was a half an hour which would probably be best used to reduce the mound of paperwork on his desk that he was currently glaring at.

Obviously, the responsible, mature, work-before-play Director of the Maryland School of the Arts employed said half an hour practicing his spotting by twirling around in his office chair.

_("Well," he figured, " He did, after all, need to keep up his dancing as well as his paper pushing.")_

**A/N:** Hope you liked, tell me what you think in a review :) And again, if there are any mistakes...


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